


Rewards

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Talon!Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick disappeared after the Night of Owls, but Tim and Damian never stopped looking for him, especially when their own foes kept turning up dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to make the whole murder-thing more Dick’s idea, but it didn’t turn out that way. Maybe if I ever do a Dick’s POV prequel/sequel, I’ll get more into it. Whatever, I just needed some emotional batbros this evening. (Also was to be more based off the eerily perfect-for-this song of ‘Daniel in the Den’ by Bastille. Again, didn’t quite turn out that way. Maybe next time.)

_~~_

_“And felled in the night, by the ones you think you love. They will come for you.”_

~~

It was hard, after the business with the Court of Owls. After all, not all of them came home.

 Jason ran off pissed – shouting to the heavens and anyone who would listen that he was going to find whoever killed Grayson. Bruce buried the thought in general amongst his cases and public appearances, just ignoring the fact that his eldest was missing, and presumed dead. Damian flat out refused to believe it, often abandoning his patrol routes in favor of following whispered leads and dead ends. 

Tim just tried to do what he always did. Be objective. 

It didn’t always work. On any given day, he had the same thought of any one of the other men in his family. Outwardly, of course, no one noticed, especially with the only change to his routine being that it was now apparently his job to make sure Robin actually went home at the end of the night to rest. 

But it wasn’t long after everything settled that the murders started. Two months, maybe three. 

It had started small. A couple of thugs showing up dead in the wrong territories. Tim only recognized them after running their DNA. Then the next body was of a man he remembered had given him a lot of trouble when he was Robin. Not a major player, and not exactly a real loss to society. 

And then Captain Boomerang showed up dead. Stabbed through with a small dagger, left on the stoop of the Drakes’ former apartment. 

After that, Tim noticed a pattern to the murders, specific tells in how the criminals had been killed. Always small weapons, always vicious attacks. He began to investigate in secret, or rather tried to. He really, _really_ tried to. But it wasn’t long until the bodies of Professor Pyg, and a man called The Flamingo were found mutilated, and Damian noticed the pattern too. 

They both had a theory of who the murderer was, but neither would say it out loud. It was something they both almost hoped would be true, but at the same time dreaded. Because if it was, if it was _him_ , then they would have to… 

Then Slade Wilson showed up, beaten to within an inch of his life. Beaten, and electrocuted multiple times, something Damian claimed was significant. 

By this time, the murders had caught the attention of the Batman, and of the Justice League. And Bruce hadn’t been at the Watchtower six hours when the news hit the airwaves. 

The Joker had been found slain. Stabbed and beaten with a rusty old crowbar. Jason immediately radioed in, giving alibi after alibi. Tim believed him, but couldn’t give him an explanation, not with Damian running to the vehicles, ignoring Tim’s shouts to stop. 

“It’s _him_.” He called, as if that was clarification enough. “It follows the pattern that you found. But there’s another one. A different pattern that _you_ didn’t take into account.” 

“And what pattern is that?” Tim asked, sprinting up behind Damian just as he hit the stairs. He grabbed the boy’s arm, spinning him around roughly. 

“It’s us. _We’re_ the pattern.” Damian snapped quickly, trying to tug his arm back gently. “All the people he’s killed. It wasn’t just because they were _criminals_ , Drake. It’s because they were people who hurt _us_.” 

Damian yanked his arm free, still talking as he continued down the stairs. 

“The Court of Owls took him, there’s no other reason he wouldn’t come home after that night.” He spoke quickly, urgently, as though if he didn’t speak the words fast enough their validity would disappear. “But their indoctrination didn’t _work_. He’ll do what they do, but not against who they _want_ him to.” 

Tim paused for a moment more, then ran down the stairs himself, to his own bike. Damian’s theory _seemed_ sound, but even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t just let the kid run out there all by himself on a whim. 

“He’s still Grayson.” Damian murmured, more to himself than to Tim as he picked up his helmet. “He’s still _our_ Grayson.” 

“And say you’re right.” Tim countered, for once hoping that the brat was. “Where’s he going to be? We haven’t caught wind of him at any of the crime scenes, in any of the evidence. It’s all circumstantial.” 

“I think…I think Joker was the last one. He saved the one who harmed one of us most for last.” Damian thought out. “So now he’s going to go after his own personal demons.”

Tim hesitated for a moment. “…Zucco?”

 “I received intel from Oracle this morning, claiming he was in town. I was going to follow him tonight, just to make sure.” Damian’s voice was now becoming impatient. “You know he would never do anything for himself-“ 

“-Until the rest of us were taken care of.” Tim finished. He snapped his helmet onto his head. “You know where Zucco’s going to be?” 

“I know where his hotel is.” Damian returned. 

“Then you take lead.” Tim snapped the visor down over his eyes. Damian did the same. “I’ll be right behind you.”

It took less than a half an hour to reach the hotel. They were on the stairs leading to the doors when suddenly Damian froze, gaze off to the side, on another building. Before Tim could ask what was wrong, the kid took off again, and Tim cursed the his habit of doing so. 

But then he saw the shadow dip into the alley a block down. 

He caught up to Damian just before the younger dove into the alleyway. Damian still believed it to be their big brother as he always was. Tim forced himself to believe the opposite. After all, he was _murdering_ people. Regardless of it is was retribution for hurting them, Dick Grayson, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t do that. 

Tim grabbed Damian across the chest and pulled him backwards. As he did so, some sort of explosion sounded from inside the passageway, followed by a small knife that, had Damian burst in like he wanted, would have hit him square in the chest. 

Damian had seen the thwarted attack, but it only stopped him for a few seconds. “Let go.” Tim only loosened his hold. “I don’t care what he’s doing, that’s still Grayson, now _let go of me!”_

Tim didn’t have a choice after the elbow to the gut. Damian dove in, running through the smoky residue of the obvious gas pellet. Tim followed right behind him. They were in the center of the smoke screen, probably halfway down the backstreet, when a voice sounded from…somewhere. 

“Stop.” 

Damian looked up. Tim looked behind them. Damian snarled, taking another step forward. “Make us.” 

Tim suddenly felt a hand on his chest, pushing him backwards. He looked up just in time to see Damian pulled forward through the smokescreen, and to hear the muted thump of something hitting the brick wall. 

“Robin!” 

He ran blindly forward through the smoke. As it cleared, two figures came into view. One was Damian, being held against the alley wall by his throat, toes barely able to reach the ground below him. In front of him was what Tim could only describe as one of the Court of Owls’ Talons. In all black with gold trim, knives strapped across his body, a hooded mask across his face. He was tall, his arms long, able to keep him back from Damian’s flailing feet as he choked him with his hand. 

“Let him go.” Tim ordered. 

“Stop.” The Talon ordered again. His voice wasn’t loud by any means, but it could be heard over Damian’s struggling. Suddenly it sounded pained, almost as if he was strangled himself. “Please stop looking for me.”

“Never.” Damian hissed, jeering up at the faceless mask. “We are family, and family never stops fighting for each other. _You_ taught me that.”

The Talon’s voice wavered, and his grip on Damian’s neck loosened. “We are not family. You are not part of the Court.” 

 _“You’re not part of the Court either!”_ Damian shrieked, kicking in frustration. 

“We know.” Tim stepped forward. The Talon’s blank goggles looked over at him. “Dick…we know.” 

“No, you don’t.” The Talon instantly dropped Damian, who landed in a coughing heap. “You _can’t_.” 

“We do.” Tim continued. “Dick, we just want to help you.”

“You can’t.” The Talon – Dick – repeated. Slowly, he reached up and dragged the mask off. His skin wasn’t the tannish-brown Tim remembered, but rather almost blue. Veins crisscrossed across his face and down his throat. His eyes were almost a honey gold, and they were sad. They were _so_ sad. Tim almost had to look away. “No one can.”

“Grayson…” Damian croaked, still coughing on the ground. Dick’s façade of a merciless killer was gone instantly at the sound. He dropped to his knees, reaching out to run his hands over Damian’s hair, down his face, and gently hold his neck again. 

“Oh, Damian.” Dick whispered. Damian coughed again, and Dick pulled him against his chest, careful to keep his face away from knives holstered there. “I’m so sorry, bud.” 

“Come home.” Damian muttered. “Father will forgive you for your crimes. You were avenging us, that’s not even a crime at all…” 

“It might take some time, but Bruce will understand.” Tim agreed. “This…whatever they did to you, it doesn’t matter. For once, let _us_ help _you_.” 

“They’re watching, Tim. They’re always watching. If I don’t return to them, then they’ll…” Dick trailed off, but Tim noticed his arms tighten protectively around Damian. It all clicked. Of course. Dick wouldn’t do all this on his own, not for his own sake. But the Court knew that, so they did the next best thing. Threaten everyone else. “They said if I stay away from you all, I’ll get rewarded.”

“How?” 

“The kills, they…they know everything about us, Tim.” Dick glanced up, clutching Damian’s head against his neck. “They’re _giving_ me these kills. Boomerang, Pyg, _Joker_ …that’s my reward, them as my targets. I get to be the one to kill them, because the Court knows I’m still angry that they hurt you.” 

“That’s it?” Damian snapped. “Not worth it. Come ba-” 

“Better than the alternative. I’d rather be rewarded by killing those bastards than punished.” Dick smiled grimly down at the youngest.

“What’s the punishment?” Tim asked. 

“If I don’t listen, if I don’t hit my target, one of you takes their place.” Dick’s voice became panicked as he looked up. “Bruce was on their list that night they took over Gotham.  They wanted to exterminate the Waynes. But they didn’t know about Damian. They didn’t know you were adopted in. They didn’t know you worked with the Batman. But they do now. They know now, and if I don’t hit one of my targets, they send another Talon after one of you two.” 

“What about To-” Damian started. It turned into a grunt as Dick squeezed him impossibly tight. The kid took the hint. “…Red Hood? He works with us occasionally.” 

“I don’t know the Red Hood.” Dick said harshly. “And unless he gets in our way, he is not a target.” 

Damian suddenly bared his teeth, latching onto Dick’s torso. “No. _No_. You are coming back with us, Grayson. We… _I_ will not take no for an answer.” 

“Damian, don’t.” Dick said softly, leaning against Damian’s hair as his body seemed to hunch around the child. “Please don’t make this harder than it is.” 

The kid looked ready to argue again, but for once thought better of it, instead keeping his mouth shut. Dick turned his head, staring up at Tim with tear-filled eyes. Tim knew if Dick had the choice, he wouldn’t let Damian go. He’d take the kid back with him to the Court of Owls, beg for them to let him keep him. Make him his pet, or prisoner, whatever. There was even a pretty good chance Dick would snatch Tim up and do the same for him, too. Anything to keep them safe. 

But Dick wasn’t allowed to have his own choices anymore, not with the Court. But this was _his_ decision, letting them go. 

Tim had to take control. 

“I’ll ask one more time, Talon.” Tim said, hoping to sound fierce. But he knew it didn’t, not with the waver that broke through halfway. “Let my partner go.” 

Dick stood, Damian still in his arms. Quickly, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Damian’s forehead before releasing him. 

“I won’t stop, Grayson.” Damian whispered, taking two steps backwards towards Tim. “I won’t ever stop looking for you. I’ll get you out of this. I swear on my life, I’ll find a way to bring you home.” 

Dick smiled and nodded. 

“You have won today, it seems.” Dick’s tone changed. It became haughtier, colder. “But this is not the end. I hope Mister Zucco appreciates the extra day on this planet.” 

Suddenly, Dick was around Damian and in front of Tim. He reached out, hooking an arm around Tim’s neck and pecking his temple. Quickly, he whispered. “Stay safe, both of you.” 

Tim gulped and nodded once. Damian huffed in front of them, a signal he’d heard him, too. Dick released him and continued on his path. They heard two footsteps, then silence filtered through the alley. It was another minute before Damian turned around. His face was stormy and unsure. 

“We don’t _need_ his protection.” Damian snapped, but it didn’t have much venom. “We handled ourselves against the Court before.” 

“Yes, we do.” Tim sighed, suddenly drained. “And even if we didn’t, Dick would give it anyway.” 

Damian stared at him for a moment before his face fell. “I…I want to go after him.”

“We can’t.” Tim looked up towards the sky. He just caught Dick’s foot disappearing across one of the rooftops. He felt his heart shatter. “…We can’t.”


End file.
